


Last Resort

by only_halfway_there



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, non-magic au, other ships in the periphery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_halfway_there/pseuds/only_halfway_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CS AU. Takes place in the glory days of the "Wild West", the mid-19th century, in the Colorado Territory. Emma is a young woman running from a troubled past. Killian is a haunted man who has eschewed the trappings of society for a solitary life in the wild, after the death of his wife. Together, they might just find that most important of all things - hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. End of the Line

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been percolating in my brain for over a year, and it is apparently, finally ready to be written. It's kind of my baby, this AU has been near and dear to me for a long long time, I've always been a big lover of this particular time in history, and the idea of doing CS in this era ... well, I had to. I just wanted to get it right. So I really hope you enjoy it. This is just the prologue, so don't expect anything major just yet, but don't worry. This fic is only plotted for ten chapters, so I hope you'll stick with me.

_**Prologue** _  
**End of the Line**

_"It's not good for anyone to be alone." -_ Cheyenne proverb

_Early April, 1864_  
 _Colorado Territory_

It was fitting, Emma supposed, that the end of the line for her came in the small settlement they called Last Resort. It was in the Colorado Territory, but it was nowhere near the bigger towns of Denver or Colorado Springs.

But it was as far as she could go. She'd run out of money quite a while back, but the old stagecoach driver had taken pity on the young widowed mother, traveling alone with her small son.

That was the story she'd given, after all, and the only one she was  _going_  to give when asked. She couldn't very well tell the truth and expect anyone respectable or decent to want to help her. As far as anyone was concerned, Emma's husband had died in a factory fire, back in Boston, and she was heading West to live with her sister in the Colorado Territory.

She'd told it so many times now, she almost believed it. That she'd step off the stagecoach and find her home. It was a lie - a pretty one, but a lie nonetheless. But nobody needed to know that. All she wanted was to start over, to find  _someplace_  that she and her son might belong, that they might not be outcasts.

So when the kindly old driver told her he couldn't rightly take her any further, she'd understood. She'd laughed a little when he'd told her where they were, playing it off as though it were not too far from where she wanted to be, all along.

She knew the old man didn't believe her, but she was grateful that he didn't ask questions. She was afraid that if someone showed her even a bit of kindness ... she'd tell them everything, and she'd be shunned for it. It wouldn't be so bad if it was just her ... but Henry deserved better. It wasn't his fault, after all.

She looked down at him, a sleeping bundle in her arms, all of two years old, but the sweetest, most beautiful boy in the world ... the only thing she'd ever had that was  _hers_. "Thank you," she told the stage driver softly. She didn't have much to gather, just her son and one small knapsack with their meager belongings, so it didn't take her long to be on her way, wishing she could've offered the driver more money, for having brought her as far as he had.

It was raining when she stepped off the coach, and she used her thin cloak to cover Henry, still sleeping soundly, and protect him from the rain. The mud squelched beneath the toes of her old boots, and she tried to keep her skirts up as much as she could without being improper, as she made her way toward the nearest building, a rough-hewn, two-story wooden construct with a sign bearing weathered red letters pronouncing it the  _Lucas' Boarding House_. Emma didn't have any money, but surely they'd let her sit by the fire for a moment. The only other option, as far as she could see, was the Saloon. And she hadn't quite hit those dire straits yet.

She could feel the eyes of the other patrons - though there were mercifully, not that many. She didn't suppose many people stopped here, not with Colorado Springs only another day or two's ride away. It was probably better for her here, than anywhere else.

"May I help you, Miss?" The old woman who greeted her seemed stern, but her eyes were kind, and Emma didn't think she looked particularly inclined to kick her out. At least, she hoped not.

"I was only hoping I might sit by your fire for a moment. We've been traveling a long way, you see ... "

Emma didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, before she was being ushered over to one of the chairs by the fire, the old woman pulling off her sodden cloak as they walked. "You are soaked clean through," she tsked at Emma, before her eyes landed on the sleeping boy at her chest. "You must be hungry, have a seat and I'll have my girl fetch something."

Emma shook her head, holding up her free hand, her eyes widening with a panic. "No, no, I can't ... I couldn't ... "

"Of course you can. That's what we're here for, after all, didn't you read the sign?"

Emma felt her cheeks burning then, knowing everyone in the modest but cozy room was staring at this point. She lowered her gaze, shaking her head, her voice very low. "I can't pay you ... I don't have any money." There'd been a time when she could have picked the pocket of every man in the room without them ever having been any wiser for it ... but ever since having Henry, she'd tried to keep herself straight and narrow. For his sake. She didn't want him to end up alone, the way she'd grown up. She  _wouldn't_  do that to him. She'd die first.

She could feel the old woman's eyes on her, but she didn't dare look up, afraid of what sort of condescending or judgmental look she might find there. She couldn't bear it, it was the reason she'd _left_  Boston, because everywhere she'd gone had reminded her of  _him_ , and everyone she knew ... well, they  _knew_.

"Look at me, girl." The woman's voice was firm, but not unkind. "You used the last of your money getting here, didn't you?" she asked, and Emma could only swallow thickly and nod. "And now you're planning to stay?"

"I don't have anywhere to go," Emma said feebly, before taking a deep breath. The story. She had a  _story_ , one that made sense, one that might get her some sympathy or at least help her avoid the consternation that came with a situation like hers. "I'm trying to make it to ... to my sister, she's in Denver, but I couldn't afford the train or the stagecoach ride all the way there. I was hoping to send word to her." It came easier now, the more times she said it. "My husband ... he died and we don't have anyone else."

"So you need a place to stay. Food. For you, and for the boy." The woman cracked a smile then, and it transformed her whole face. She looked like someone's kindly grandmother then, or what Emma assumed a kindly grandmother would look like, not having ever had one of her own. "Until you can get word to your sister, and make more permanent arrangements."

"I couldn't ... impose," Emma said, hating herself for having even that little flicker of hope rising in her chest then. She knew better than to wish for things, or to let herself be happy. Every time ... every time, she ended up worse off than she'd been before.

"You wouldn't be. It's just me and my granddaughter around here, and we can always use an extra hand. In return for food and board ... you could help us out."

Emma bit her lip, her brow creasing as she considered the woman's words. It sounded a lot like charity to her ears, and she'd always liked to assume that she could do things on her own. She'd gotten by for 18 years on her own, after all ... though no one could say she'd done it  _well_. And, well ... it wasn't as though she had  _any_  other prospects. Maybe she'd be able to save up enough to make her way to one of the bigger towns, to lose herself, before anyone here would ever know the truth.

"Do you have a better plan, at the moment?"

Emma could only shake her head at that. "I just don't want to be a burden."

"You pull your weight and you'll be no burden to us, in fact, you'd be a godsend."

No one had ever called her anything like that before - well, no one who'd actually  _meant_  it, and Emma couldn't help but smile a little wanly. She didn't know if it was Fortune or Providence smiling on her today, but she couldn't very well turn down help like this, not at this point. "Well in that case, I accept," she said. "Just tell me what you need me to do."

"A name wouldn't go amiss, for one."

"Emma. My name's Emma. And this is Henry." She nodded her head down to where Henry still slept, oblivious to the world, and she was ever-so-grateful that he was. By the time he was old enough to  _remember_  things, she wanted them to have a better life.

"Pleasure to meet you, Emma. I'm Widow Lucas - though everyone in these parts calls me Granny, and I'm sure you'll come to do it, too. As for what I need you to do ... " She pointed her finger to the chair by the fire, "I need you to  _sit_  and warm up, and  _eat something_ , it looks like it's been  _days_. And then you'll get a good night's rest, and my granddaughter will show you the ropes come morning."

Emma could only smile and nod, moving to sit down in the chair, her body sagging with relief against the cushions. She was grateful to have a warm place to stay, and food for both her and Henry for at least a few weeks, before she was able to move on again. She didn't plan on making this place her permanent residence, she couldn't really afford to do that. Getting attached to things - to people, to places - it never ended well. She'd learned that lesson the hard way, all her life. And the one time she'd thought it might be different, the one time she'd thought things were going to change ... well. She'd been reminded that nothing really ever did.

She'd think about this night, in the future, and be glad that this was as far along the stagecoach line as she was able to go. But it would be awhile before she did. It would be a long time before she'd think of this place as anything but a stopping point, and longer still for her to think of it as  _home_.

But she would. And she'd think on this night, this first night in Last Resort, in the days and weeks and months to come, when the spring rains stopped and the ground hardened to the hard-baked red clay that had given the Territory its name. She'd think about this first night when the first flowers started to bloom, when the landscape went from drab and brown to fragrant and green. She'd think about it as she watched newfound friends marry and die and give birth. She'd think about it during starlit nights spent out in the wild, learning how to live off the land, learning the names of the stars, learning the sound of a laugh that was the most beautiful music her ears would ever hear ... learning that not everyone was going to leave.

Oh, she'd think on this night a lot in the days and weeks and months to come. She'd think about how the smallest little moment, and a place that was only meant to be a stopping point on her way somewhere else ... how it would become everything to her. How the color red would permanently become etched into her mind as a sign of all things good, all things right.

Right now, all she wanted was food in her belly and in her son's, and a pillow to rest her head on for the night. It was all she wanted for now, and she couldn't let herself dream or hope or wish for anything more than that. She couldn't let herself want more than just what was necessary to survive. She couldn't let herself  _hope_. Not ever again.

But in the morning, everything would change ...

_To be continued_

_In_ _**Chapter One** _ _\- Emma meets some more of the townsfolk ... and one intriguing outsider._


	2. A Pretty Lass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's first official day in Last Resort -- she meets some of the townsfolk ... and one intriguing outsider.

_**Chapter One** _   
**A Pretty Lass**

It came as no surprise, that a newcomer such as herself would be big news in a place like Last Resort. Ruby told Emma, the next morning, while she was running through the daily list of tasks to be done, that the only reason she was spared from it the previous evening had been the rain.

Ruby was around the same age as Emma herself, sweet as could be, and, as far as Emma could tell, relatively innocent about the ways of the world. Oh, she had a hardness about her, a certain toughness that Emma could only assume came from living in a place like this all her life. Even the streets of Boston - so far away from her now - were a more forgiving territory than what she saw, looking out the small, dirty window in her temporary room at the boarding house.

But beyond all that, Ruby had a wide-eyed fascination with the ways of life out east, though Emma did her best to demur her questions as politely as she could. She knew Ruby was dying to ask her all manner of questions about her life, and that she'd more than likely been told to not. With the way the girl was all but bouncing around upon their meeting, Emma could only be glad of it. Things out east were messy these days, what with the war on. And the  _last_  thing Emma wanted to do was speak of her personal life.

She could only imagine what these two kind-hearted women who had taken her in would say if they knew the truth. They certainly wouldn't want to be caught helping her out, that was for certain.

"How are you at cooking?" Ruby asked her, bringing her downstairs after waking her a bit before dawn.

"Oh, I ... " Emma stammered, feeling her cheeks redden. No self-respecting woman of her age would be as unskilled in the kitchen as she was - but she'd never lived anywhere where it had been something she'd needed to  _learn_. But she wasn't about to let on that she couldn't take care of herself, that she didn't know the first thing about what she was doing here. Everything she could learn, working here, would help her, and would help Henry, in the future.

"I bet you lived in a grand house in Boston, right?" Ruby asked then, taking away the need for Emma to say anything at all. She could see the girl going all starry eyed at the prospect, and really didn't want to tell her that she'd done no such thing, that she'd lived on the street, that she'd only had anything even sort of resembling a "home" for a few months - before that was gone too. "It's all right, whatever you don't know, we can teach you. Granny could teach anybody just about  _anything_."

Emma just nodded, grateful to be spared the need to have to share or explain  _why_  she didn't know the most basic of skills that were necessary to survive.

She'd been a fool, thinking she could come all the way out here, and somehow make a life for herself and her son. And if the Lucas women hadn't been kind enough to open their doors for her, she'd be on the streets, still. And in a place with dangers that were so foreign to anything she'd ever known before.

Henry, upon his waking, had taken a liking to the dark-haired girl, and Ruby hadn't hesitated to scoop him up, cooing at him and promising all sorts of sweets once they got to the kitchens. Emma didn't want to tell him no, he seemed  _happy_  now, and that was really all she wanted for him.

But she didn't want the attachments. She didn't want to like these people, to care about them. It would only make it harder in the end. "He doesn't need the sweets," she said, not unkindly, reaching to take Henry from Ruby's arms. He protested, however, and clung tighter.

"Just a little one," Ruby promised with a slightly puzzled expression on her face as they walked into the kitchen. "It won't hurt him, and he looks like he could use a treat or two, after the trip you two have had."

Emma couldn't really protest that, and she couldn't really  _deny_  him that little luxury, either. It wasn't his fault they were in this mess, it was  _hers_ , it was all  _hers_ , and she wouldn't make him suffer for the sins of his father. He would never suffer the way that Emma had. "I guess that's all right," Emma conceded then, offering the brunette a smile, not wanting to appear ungrateful in any way.

"Of course it is! And Granny has been up since before dawn making an extra special sweetcake, just for  _you_." Ruby declared with a grin, tickling Henry's ribs and making him giggle. Emma couldn't help but smile at that, as they walked into the kitchen area. It had been a long time since either she or Henry had had good reason to smile, to  _really_  smile.

The smiling didn't last long, however, because Emma no sooner entered the kitchen, than Granny had her put to work. She was kneading dough and churning butter and scouring pans - tasks that kept her in the back of the boarding house, in the hot kitchen, until it was nearly noon. Henry was as content as could be, playing with a carved wooden toy that Granny had procured for him - Emma made a mental note to find out where she'd gotten it, so she'd be able to pay her back for it later. She didn't want to owe anybody anything.

She was practically  _wilting_  from the heat, from the exertion - she'd never imagined it would be so much work. Most of her life up until making the decision to move West had been about one thing, and one thing only - survival. It wasn't about doing anything extra, it was about doing whatever she had to do to get by. She'd gone without, simply because there was no other choice.

But here ... here it was different. Here there would be no merely scraping by. Out here, you did or you died. And it applied doubly now, that she had Henry to take of, to make sure his needs were meant. That's why learning these things were so important. So that she could do them on her own. So that she and Henry would never have to depend upon another living soul.

"Come on, Emma. Granny wants us to hang the linens out." Ruby's voice broke Emma from her reverie of rather dismal thoughts, and she nodded, wiping her sore hands on the front of the borrowed apron she wore, tucking the strands of blonde hair that had fallen loose from the loose knot she wore her hair in. She looked back at Henry, but Ruby just shook her head. "He's fine. Granny will be in in just a moment to get supper started. Come on, your face is beet red, you've been too long in the kitchen."

Emma caught up with Ruby, taking one of the baskets of clean, wet linens to hang out on the line in the field behind the boarding house. Ruby seemed to have a bit of a bounce in her step, and Emma soon found out why.

She was quick to learn that if you wanted to know  _anything_  about anyone in Last Resort, Ruby was the person to talk to. She seemed to know everything about everyone in the little settlement. Which Emma supposed made sense. If anyone new was coming to town, their first stop would likely be what hers had been. Well, unless they were the "other" sort, as Ruby said in a low whisper, and then they'd go to the saloon. Emma remembered with some chagrin that she might've had to do much the same, and wondered, if Ruby knew the  _truth_  about her ... would she consider her one of these "others"?

As much as Emma was  _terrified_  Ruby would find out something about  _her_  and tell someone, she did find her knowledge of the townsfolk to be pretty invaluable.

"That's Mary Margaret Blanchard," Ruby pointed out a pretty dark-haired lady walking by. "She's the schoolteacher. We don't have much of a school yet, so the young'uns use the church for their lessons. But there's talk that they're gonna build one up this summer. I know your little one is too little for lessons just yet, but in a couple years, with any luck, he'll have a good and proper school to learn in." She seemed pleased by this, and Emma didn't have the heart to tell her that by the time Henry was old enough for school ... they'd be far away from here.

"Afternoon, Ruby," Mary Margaret said as she stepped closer, a look of surprise crossing her features when Emma emerged out from behind one of the sheets she was hanging on the line to dry then. "I was going to offer you some help, but it seems as if you already have some." She smiled kindly, and Emma felt her throat go a little dry. Meeting new people was something she did  _not_ want to do right now.

"Mary Margaret, this is Emma," Ruby said, sounding very pleased to be the one to introduce the two of them. "Emma just got to town last night, she's on her way to - Colorado Springs, isn't that right?" Emma just nodded, it was as good a location as any, wasn't it? "She's come all the way from  _Boston_."

Emma managed a weak smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Blanchard," she said with a little bob of her head. "I'm sorry, you've caught me at a bit of an awkward time."

Mary Margaret smiled then, the kind of smile that told Emma it was going to be hard to dislike this woman, and she felt the knots in her stomach tighten. "Don't apologize," she said sweetly. "How are you liking it here so far? I think most of us started out here, thinking we'd move on eventually, and yet ... we've all stayed."

Emma quickly turned her attention back to the linens. "My ... my sister is expecting me," she said, reciting her familiar old story yet again, shaking her head a bit as she did. "She's the only family Henry and I have. We're already weeks late."

"I ... see," Mary Margaret said slowly, and Emma knew she didn't want to see the curious look she was receiving from the woman. She told herself that she didn't  _care_  what they thought of her. These people, this place, they didn't  _matter_. "Well, I hope you're planning to come to church on Sunday," Mary Margaret pressed on then. "We're having a social afterward, it'll be a good time for you to meet everyone."

"Of course she'll come!" Ruby said, before turning to Emma with wide eyes. "You won't have much of a choice, I'm afraid. Granny will  _make_  you. But I promise you'll have fun, we always do. Oh, and you'll be able to meet Graham!" Ruby mistook Emma's withering look for confusion, apparently, because she continued on without a breath. "He's the town sheriff, single and so very handsome ... which is pretty hard to come by out in these parts." She sighed a little. "I'm sure once he gets word about the new girl in town, they'll be no stopping him from dropping by."

Emma had never been more grateful in her life for anything than she was when the wind picked up then, whipping one of the pretty lacy doilies that had been laying on top of the basket and carrying it off. "Oh, no!" she gasped, taking off after it, not wanting her first day at this to result in her  _losing_  their things, especially not pretty things like  _that_  ... and also because she just ... didn't want to  _talk_  to them any more. She wasn't here to make friends, she wasn't here to go to socials or parties or meet new people. She certainly wasn't looking to be set up with the town's sheriff, or anyone  _at all_  for that matter.

"Emma, wait, don't worry about it!" She could hear Ruby's voice calling to her, growing a little fainter as she hitched up her skirts and took off across the meadow, in the direction the errant cloth had blown.

"Where the hell did it go?" Emma cursed, looking around, her brow furrowing as she scanned the meadow. It didn't help that the field was dotted with thousands of little white flowers, which would serve as the perfect camouflage for the stupid doily. She wandered a bit further, afraid that it was a lost cause at this point, but not wanting to give up the hunt quite so easily. When she looked back, she could see Ruby still talking to Mary Margaret, and she couldn't find it in her to want to go back and listen to the gossip. It was everything she didn't want, and she'd seen that glint in Ruby's eyes. That was a matchmaking glint.

And it was the  _last_  thing that Emma wanted.

She wandered out even further, until she couldn't even  _see_ the other women, and the buildings of town were tiny in her view. The brush was thicker here, the trees denser ... she wouldn't exactly call it a forest, but she had definitely wandered out beyond where she should have. She stopped only when she reached a fast moving stream, not seeing a good place to cross, and not really relishing the idea of having wet feet for a second day in a row and not wanting to wander out so far that she couldn't make it back before darkness fell.

With a sigh, she turned to head back, wondering how on earth she was going to repay them for losing something that was probably handmade, or had possibly belonged to a grandmother or something. Leave it to her, she  _would_  lose a family heirloom on her first day.

"You're a fair way from home, aren't you, lass?"

She gasped a little when she turned, hand going to her chest. There was a man, leaning against the trunk of one of the trees, a man who certainly hadn't been there when she'd first come this way. A man who'd made no noise upon his approach. Emma's eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance ... he didn't look anything at all like the townsfolk. There was something almost primitave about the way he dressed - animal skins and leather breeches. Soft shoes that she wouldn't even know what to call were on his feet. Those would account for the silent way he moved, she thought to herself. She'd never quite seen anyone who looked the way he did. His hair was thick and dark, unruly and unkempt, and his eyes were the most piercing blue she'd ever seen. His face was as perfect as the sculptures back in Boston. And yet there was something a little terrifying about him. He retained a sense of wildness, it exuded from his very being.

His voice, when he'd spoken, had an almost musical quality to it, lilting and rolling, whispering of lands far far away - she wasn't the only one who was far from home.

After the initial shock of discovering herself  _not alone_  out in the wilderness had worn off, Emma narrowed her eyes. "How long have you been standing there?" she snapped icily.

"Long enough." He gave a little shrug, an almost feral smirk curving the corners of his lips. "When people wander out this far from the town, I tend to take notice. Never know what one might be up to." He pushed off the tree then, moving closer to her, and Emma was reminded of an animal, stalking its prey. It made her heart beat faster when he approached ... though a part of her knew not all of it was from  _fear_.

"I lost something," she said, as though that were all the explanation needed.

He gave a short bark of laughter at that. "Haven't we all," he said, coming to a stop only inches from her, his face very near hers. "Doesn't explain what brought you all this way. Most people don't venture past the trees."

Emma stiffened her back, refusing to back down even though she knew she was treading on dangerous ground here, with this unknown man, in the wild that was very much a part of him, and completely foreign to her. "I don't think I owe you an explanation. I lost something that didn't belong to me, and all I wanted to do was get it back."

"You don't owe me an explanation, and yet you're so quick to offer one anyway." He cocked a brow at her then, his gaze raking over her in a decidedly lascivious manner, before he leaned a little closer. "You might be careful where and how far you wander next time, lass," he said lowly, his lips near her ear. "Not everything that stalks these wilds is as discerning as I am about who or what they hunt." Emma inhaled sharply when she felt him press something into her hand. "And a pretty lass like you would make a fine meal for many a creature."

Emma's gaze was steel as she looked at him, when he  _finally_  pulled back enough for her to breathe. He was smirking at her, still, and she was ready to slap him for being impertinent, for being rude, for making her heart beat in her chest so much that it almost  _hurt_. "Thanks for the warning," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm, turning on her heel then to head back into town,  _away_ from ... well. Whatever this was.

But when she looked down, she saw the doily in her hand - that had been what he'd been giving to her, when he'd gotten so  _close_. Emma swallowed thickly, turning back around to thank him ... only to find that he had disappeared. "Thank you," she said quietly then, before heading back the way she'd come.

Her brow was furrowed as she made her way back to town, to the boarding house. She was still thinking about the encounter, and part of her was beginning to think she'd fallen and hit her head and hallucinated the whole thing.

The man had been handsome as sin and just about as feral and uncouth as it was possible to be - and yet her hands still shook from their all-too-brief encounter. Her heart was still pounding wildly in her chest.

The linens were all hanging on the line by the time she got back, and there was no sign of Ruby or Mary Margaret anywhere outside, so Emma headed back into the boarding house.

"Oh, my goodness, Emma, are you all right?" Ruby was fussing at her the second she stepped inside. "You wandered so far, I was  _sure_  something terrible was going to happen to you. What were you after, anyway?"

Emma started to show her the doily in her hand, wanted to ask her about the man in the woods ... but a noise from the front caught their attention before she could get a word out.

Ruby groaned a little as she opened the kitchen door just enough to look out into the main dining room of the inn. "I should've known," she said, giving Emma a distasteful look. "The weather starts getting warm, and all the people trapped up on their homesteads during the winter, as well as ...  _other sorts_... start trickling back into town. You'll need to watch out for that one if you ever see him about." She pointed, as discretely as she could, toward the front of the main room.

Emma stood on her tiptoes to look better at the room, to see what Ruby was pointing at. Her eyes widened and she gasped a little. It was  _him_. "Who is he?" she whispered, not wanting to sound like she  _cared_ , but more curious than she was willing to admit about him.

" _Killian_." Ruby rolled her eyes, letting the door fall shut and stepping back into the kitchen with Emma. "You can't let anything he says or does get to you. He's completely insane. He comes into town once, maybe twice a year to get supplies. No one really knows where he lives, way out in the woods somewhere, I guess. He spends a lot of time with the Indians."

"Sounds pretty lonely," Emma said, her forehead creasing as she chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. There was a story there, she could feel it in her bones. It was so much more than what meant the eye. She'd  _seen_  him, up close, and he hadn't threatened her or harmed her in any way. She wasn't  _afraid_  of him, even if she was supposed to be. Mostly she just wanted to know more. "So what is he doing  _here_?"

"He brings Granny herbs and stuff, for her cooking," Ruby shrugged. "Like as not, he's really the only one who can get to some of the stuff without one of us having to risk danger for it."

Emma just nodded. "I should go see if Granny needs me to do anything else." Before Ruby could stop her, Emma had darted past her and through the door, hoping for one last glance at the man before he disappeared again.

He was just about to leave when Emma reached Granny's side. Hand on the door, he turned and his eyes widened, just a little, when he saw her. His lips twitched upward, but barely, Emma was sure she was the only one who noticed it.

"You ought to leave the pretty lass out front. Might help you get some more business in this place."


End file.
